Page 13 of Sweet Girl
I take a quick glance around the room, as we move forward in line toward the counter. “My brother was born with CP.”
“CP?”
“Cerebral palsy. Well, actually, he wasn’t born with it. It became obvious around the time he turned three, just about the time I was born. He was struggling to walk and gain balance. He couldn’t grasp or hold on to toys. His speech became slurred and mumbled, until he could no longer talk at all with the exception of really loud, high-pitched squeals.”
Kylah’s hand touches my shoulder and my eyes track to where we’re connected. Her touch is soft and warm. Reassuring. Comforting.
“Wow. That must’ve been so hard on you growing up. And your parents. I’m sure it was difficult dealing with all the complexities of adjusting to that type of disorder in their child and then bringing a new baby into the world at the same time.”
I’m floored by the capacity of empathy and understanding that Kylah has about my family situation. Most people are sympathetic to our plight. They feel sorry for me having to live in the shadow of a brother who takes all my parents’ attention and focus. Kylah, though, seems to get the truth behind the situation.
Her next words are spoken softly, but with confidence. “That’s one of the reasons I want to go into molecular biology. I’m fascinated by the human body and the diseases within them. How DNA is mutated to create human afflictions that we have no cure for and no way to stop.”
I must be looking at her with a weird expression because she suddenly stops and slaps her hand across her mouth, eyes filled with worry.
“Oh my God. I’m so sorry. Sometimes I don’t filter what I say and just blurt things out that other people don’t care about. I’m such a dork. I’m sorry.” Kylah turns her ahead, anxiously glancing around the room trying to avoid any further eye contact.
That just won’t do. I place my index finger under her chin and press lightly, returning her attention back to me. She bites down on her lip and chews nervously.
“Ky,” my voice is low as I speak directly to her. “You’re not a dork. I think that’s the coolest thing in the world that you know what you want to do with your life. I admire that about you. So don’t ever downplay your ambitions, with anyone.”
Before I can think twice, I lean down and place a chaste kiss on her forehead. I may linger a bit, taking in her tropical scent. Just then, the cashier calls us to the front to take our order. I place my hand on the small of her back and gently press her forward.
After we’ve both ordered, we move to the end of the counter to await our orders. Kylah stands next to me, but turns her head, moving the hair out of her face as she smiles up at me, her eyes bright and beaming.
“Thanks, Van.”
“For what?” I ask.
“For understanding me. For being my friend.”
